(I Had a Dream About) A Burning House
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: In one day, Emily Prentiss had lost her sight, her job, and her husband. It was also the day she found out she was pregnant. Three days later, she met Jennifer Jareau and her life changed all over again. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

In one day, Emily Prentiss had lost her sight, her job, and her husband.

It was also the day she found out she was pregnant.

She and Derek had been trying for a baby for nearly five years at that point and she had already miscarried three times. She had been so anxious about trying again after the last one and had almost considered giving up. Derek had convinced her to try one last time before they gave up and the knowledge that he'd be by her side the entire time, no matter the outcome had given her the courage to go through with it. She didn't think she'd be able to do it without him...

Lying in the hospital, more alone than she'd ever been and facing the biggest struggles of her life, she fully expected to miscarry again within the week from a combination of stress, grief, and physical trauma. She'd made her peace with that eventuality, as much as possible, since she hadn't truly expected anything to be different this time; when they'd tried for this baby, she hadn't truly expected anything to be different, hadn't allowed herself to really hope. She'd anticipated another disappointment, her husband at her side sharing the loss, and with time maybe she'd be able to think about adoption without feeling like such a failure.

Even in her worst nightmares, though, she hadn't imagined facing any of it alone.

* * *

Even as her doctors told her that her blindness would likely be temporary and she'd regain her sight once the swelling in her brain went down, Emily knew that wouldn't be the case.

The same way she'd known the morning of the race that something bad was going to happen. The same way she knew Derek wasn't going to wake up despite everyone's attempts to resuscitate him. She knew she was never going to see again.

By the third day, the doctors seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion and the hospital social worker sent someone to speak with her about her life going forwards.

The knock on the door startled her; her other senses hadn't quite caught up with the new impairment and the residual ringing in her ears from the explosion didn't help. She didn't particularly want to speak with anyone at the moment – Derek's mother had finally left her alone for the first time to make funeral arrangements and she was waiting for the tears to come now that no one was there to see her cry.

"Mrs. Morgan?" The voice from the doorway was unsure, like she knew she was intruding.

Emily thought about asking if she got to keep the last name now that her husband was dead, but thought her brand of dark humor might be considered in poor taste. "Just call me Emily," she said instead.

"Alright. Emily. I'm Jennifer, the social work department referred your case to me."

"Shrink?" Emily guessed.

"Technically, yes, I have a degree in psychiatry. But I'm not here for that. I run a program to help the newly blind adapt to their circumstances. We teach people how to get around the city, how to read braille, and other coping strategies and if you qualify, we help find a place to live equipped for your needs and pair you with a seeing-eye dog."

"Can you do all that in seven months?" Emily asked, unable to help the bitter edge to her voice.

"Right," Jennifer said. Emily heard the flipping of papers. "Your file mentioned you're expecting. Congratulations. We actually have a support group for blind mothers that many of our members find very helpful, among other resources for new mothers."

"And what about after that? What about the next eighteen years when I'm raising a child alone?"

Jennifer made a sympathetic noise and rested a hand on her shoulder, surprising her. "I know it's overwhelming now and you've got a difficult journey ahead of you, but right now, try to just take it one day at a time." Emily gave a derisive snort. "I know it sounds trite, coming from me, but looking too far ahead is just going to paralyze you with fear. Just trust me and I promise I'll get you through this."


	2. Chapter 2

Emily spent the first week after being released from the hospital in bed. She was in pain with several broken ribs, but more than that, she was overwhelmingly depressed. She couldn't bring herself to help with the plans for Derek's funeral and she absolutely didn't want to talk about the baby.

Her mother-in-law left her alone for the most part, understanding all too well the grief of being widowed young. Aside from bringing her meals and reminding her to call Jennifer back, Fran was a silent presence in the house, busying herself with the funeral arrangements.

In another day or two, his sisters would arrive in town and Emily would be forced to face their pity. She took small comfort in the knowledge that at least she wouldn't have to see it in their eyes.

"Please don't tell Sarah and Desi..." Emily pleaded, when she heard Fran's soft footsteps across the bedroom carpet as she brought a glass of water and a prenatal vitamin. "I can't handle any more pity if...if I lose it. Don't tell them."

"I won't tell them," she promised. "But for what it's worth, being pitied doesn't make you weak."

"Being pitied makes you a victim," Emily retorted. "I'm not a victim. I never have been and I refuse to be one now."

Fran didn't argue with her logic. "What happened to Derek wasn't your fault. None of this was. It wasn't your fault that you lost those babies and it won't be your fault if it happens again. I know Derek would want you to know that."

Emily rolled over, away from her voice. "I need to rest now. Please leave," she whispered. She could almost feel the concern rolling off her mother-in-law in waves as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

The day before the funeral, Jennifer showed up at her house.

Emily hadn't purposely been ignoring her, she was just really too overwhelmed to deal with anything at the moment. And maybe, a tiny part of her had been hoping she'd miraculously open her eyes one morning to find she could see again and accepting Jennifer's help meant accepting that wasn't going to happen.

She knocked on the bedroom door, then announced her presence. "Do you mind if I come in and talk to you?"

Emily sighed and relented because she needed help at the moment, loathe as she was to admit it. "Yeah, come in." She stood in front of the open closet, frustrated nearly to the point of tears. "Apparently color doesn't have a feel," she said blithely. "I have no idea where my funeral dress is."

"You have a funeral dress?" Jennifer asked, stunned.

"I work at the FBI," she said by way of explanation. "Well, I guess I did. Probably don't have much use for a blind agent."

"You might be surprised," Jennifer said, "I can look into it for you, if you'd like." She crossed the room and peered into the closet that Emily appeared to have ransacked in her frustration. "Do you want me to help find your dress? In the future, I can teach you ways to organize your clothes to give you more independence."

"It's the plain black v-neck with three-quarter sleeves." She was silent for a moment. "I hope it still fits, I have no idea what my belly looks like right now."

"You can hardly see it," Jennifer assured.

"Good," Emily whispered, which Jennifer thought was kind of odd, but didn't comment on. "Are you coming to the funeral?" Emily asked eventually.

"I can if you'd like me to be there. I'm here to help you in any way you need."

Emily frowned. "Don't you have a support group to run?"

Jennifer wasn't sure if that was meant to be insulting or not, but she chose not to take it that way. "Technically, yes, I run the organization, but I've chosen to work directly with you, as you're something of a special case."

"That makes me feel so special," Emily deadpanned.

"I can find you a different case-worker if you'd feel more comfortable with someone else," she offered.

Emily shook her head. "I don't know what I want," she admitted, "But for now, I think you're the right choice."

"Great," Jennifer said, and Emily could almost hear the smile in her voice. "You can call me JJ, by the way. Now, do you need help picking a pair of shoes?"


	3. Chapter 3

Derek Morgan's funeral was a solemn affair.

It seemed to Emily that half of the Chicago FBI field office and even more of the local police force showed up to mourn their fallen brother. She wasn't surprised that so many people there – Derek had been a sweet man who touched the lives of everyone he encountered. A few of the victims they'd rescued over the years came up to shake her hand and offer condolences and she wished she was able to see their faces, to know if their grief for him was real.

She was glad so many people were there to remember him.

She just wished they weren't all giving her that look of pity as she stood beside the grave with red-rimmed eyes. She could feel their sympathetic glances on her like ice water.

Sometimes, she wished it had been her that died in the explosion instead of him. Derek had always been the resilient one. He would have been okay without her, in time.

In her hands, she held a rose so tightly that she could feel the thorns biting her palm. The warm feeling of blood filling her fist kept her from acting on the urge to scream until her lungs burned.

Fran stood next to her, holding her empty hand, crying enough for the both of them. Emily wanted to cry, she really did, but for whatever reason the tears refused to come. Yesterday, in preparation for the funeral, JJ had told her that there was no wrong way to grieve and that it was okay not to cry.

She'd known that of course, had said it to any number of victims and family members. Why, then, did it feel like such a betrayal to have dry eyes in front of all these people who had known her husband and even more who hadn't?

* * *

In the end, she hadn't been able to speak, choking on her words and fighting down the urge to vomit. She felt like she'd failed him, though his family and JJ had all assured her that she hadn't and no one who wasn't going through what she was had any right to judge her for it.

All she really wanted, though, was to hear it from him. To hear him laugh and joke about Sergio having gotten her tongue. Knowing him, then he probably would have kissed her and joked that it seemed to be working fine to him. His jokes were cheesy and predictable and often groan-worthy, but oh how she wanted that right now. Anything at all to make her smile again the way only he could.

God, how she missed him. It was only really starting to hit her that she was never going to see him again. That she was going to be raising another human without him...she could barely take care of herself when she could see, how could she care for someone else now that she couldn't?

JJ assured her that many blind mothers managed just fine and their children turned out entirely normal. But she worried about her children turning out badly just by having her for a mother in the first place...

Long after everyone else had wandered away from the graveside, back into their cars and their lives, Emily sat beside the overturned earth, waiting for some feeling she wasn't sure would ever come. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but she knew she'd know it once she felt it.

She thought about talking to God, the way Fran encouraged her to, but she found it hard to speak to someone who had not only taken her babies, but her husband as well, before she'd had a chance to say goodbye to any of them. Everyone she loved was too good, too pure for God to let her keep them.

She supposed she could understand that. She wasn't a very good person. She'd just been lucky enough to find people who were good and love them long enough to ruin them.

JJ sat down beside her without saying a word. They had spent enough time together now that Emily could recognize her perfume.

"I've been to a lot of funerals," Emily said, breaking the silence. "I've buried friends and partners and family and even complete strangers. So, why does this feel so different? Why does it feel like I'm choking on the smell of wet earth as they throw dirt on my husband's casket? Why does it feel like I'm down there instead of him? I wish it was me."

"I know," JJ whispered, clasping Emily's hand. She didn't pull it away this time. "It will pass. I promise it will. It's just going to take a little time.


	4. Chapter 4

Emily had tried her best to discourage Fran from coming with her to her first prenatal appointment. She was sure that she had probably miscarried by now and she didn't want Fran to have to bear that grief, the knowledge that she wasn't going to have a grandchild to carry on Derek's name, on top of everything she already had to carry.

But Fran would take no discouraging. She insisted that Emily needed someone there with her to help her through the pain of not having Derek there and eventually she'd given in because her will to fight seemed to have died along with him.

Practically since their first date, Fran had been bugging Derek to give her grandchildren. Derek had often joked that the only reason she'd had children in the first place was to have grandchildren. She always said that Sarah and Desiree were in no hurry to settle down, so it was up to him and Emily to make her a grandma.

Emily had always known she'd wanted children, practically since she'd been one herself. She had often thought about the kind of mother she'd be, how she'd do things differently from her own mother. And from the first moment she'd met him, she'd known Derek would be a wonderful father, that he was the one she wanted for her children.

The universe, of course, had other plans for them. The first pregnancy had been the one that lasted longest before she'd miscarried – nearly twenty weeks. She had been devastated when she'd started bleeding. It had been a little girl and they had already named her Sadie (because Derek called her his little princess).

The first time, they'd bathed her and dressed her and had a little funeral for her. And then, life had gone on, as it always does. They tried to shut out the memory of their dead baby girl and only occasionally did it leak out, when they saw an especially small baby or when they heard the name Sadie.

The next pregnancy hadn't lasted nearly as long and they only got shorter until they were nearly over before they began. They stopped naming them, stopped having funerals, and eventually she stopped even hoping. Derek held onto hope, as was his manner – she'd loved that about him in the beginning, but she'd slowly grown to hate it, that he always believed that the next time would be the one.

She'd yelled at him sometimes. Terrible things that she wished she could take back. He never let the barbs she threw hurt him, though, knowing she said them in pain and in sadness and none of them were truly meant to hurt him, so he didn't let them. He took the things she shouted at him and once they died on her tongue, he wrapped her in his arms and she would cry until there was nothing left and he'd reassure her that the next time would be different.

Derek Morgan had been a better man than she deserved.

And God, she wished he was there with her right then.

She'd grown to hate ultrasounds, knowing they'd never tell her what she wanted to hear. Today, there were a lot of things she wanted to hear and none of them were going to come true, so she didn't even bother hoping for anything.

Fran held her hand tightly as she lay back on the table, whispering to her that Derek was with them right then and that he was so proud of her for her strength, that he couldn't wait to see their baby. Emily just nodded, unable to find anything to say around the lump in her throat, afraid that if she did the sob trapped in her chest would come bursting out.

* * *

Emily emerged from her appointment with a nearly giddy mother-in-law and a photograph of her child in hand (she'd insisted she didn't want it, didn't _need_ it, but they'd given it to her despite her protests). Her still living child with a still beating heart – she'd made the doctor check four times, unable to believe it the first three.

She was feeling rather frantic now, trying to imagine having a baby in her arms in a few months time and unable to really picture it as she hadn't allowed herself to for so long. She had too many things left to do and she didn't know how to do them anymore.

She was alone.

She was terrified.


	5. Chapter 5

Emily's first word had been "No!"

Her first complete sentence had been "I do it!"

From the moment she had been born, she'd had an undefeatable independent streak, much to her mother's chagrin.

The idea of being dependant and relying on people until she relearned how to do nearly everything was beyond any horror that ever plagued her nightmares. She had never for a moment imagined that she might one day need help to get dressed or make a bowl of cereal and living the reality of it was nearly torturous.

So, as soon as she was able, she begged JJ to help her get her independence back. JJ had been reluctant to immediately plunge right in, knowing Emily well enough already to know that she was rushing through to mask her feelings. When she suggested they first have a therapy session, Emily had balked and outright refused, insisting she was fine.

She would have to take a more subtle approach to get Emily to open up.

* * *

Emily was in a sour mood for a lot of reasons. She was well aware she was being something of a brat, but she couldn't quite bring herself to act with any modicum of maturity at the moment.

She didn't even want to be shopping in the first place, let alone shopping for baby clothes which she was certain was going to curse her pregnancy. But JJ had insisted learning to buy clothes was a skill she was going to have to learn and they might as well start now.

Most of her uncooperative and unpleasant disposition was coming from the realization that this was something she was never going to be able to do on her own again. She was always going to need someone there with her telling her what to buy like she was five years old all over again. Gone were the days where going to the store was a quick errand or a relaxing day off – it was just another chore she couldn't do.

In order to pick out clothes, she needed someone with her to describe the item to her, which was bad enough on its own. But the injustice didn't stop there because she still needed someone seeing to help her label the item and organize her closet. Even after all that, she could only hope that she picked out a coordinated outfit, including shoes that matched and jewelry that went together. And that was just for herself. She had a child to think about dressing now too.

"What colors do you like?" JJ asked, from where she was rifling through a rack of onesies. "I know you don't know the sex yet, so something neutral?"

"Red," Emily said distantly, mind far away, "Or dark blue. Derek liked dark blue. I promised him that the outfit we'd take the baby home in would be a Chicago Bears jersey."

JJ smiled sadly. "I'm sure they've got plenty of Bears gear around here somewhere. Personally, I cheer for the Chicago Fire, but I won't judge those who don't."

It was a weak joke and Emily wasn't in the mood to humor her. She continued feeling the fabric of the tiny outfits in silence, choosing ones that felt soft and comforting.

"Have you thought about names yet?" JJ asked, trying to make conversation, watching Emily's sullen expression and the slump of her shoulders like she was trying to disappear.

"I promised that if we had a boy we'd name him James, after Derek's father." Her breath hitched slightly and it took her a moment to recover her composure. "I can't...I don't even know for a girl." The memory of her first dead child was clear in her eyes.

JJ's hand on her shoulder was warm and comforting. She changed the subject before Emily could get too lost in the ghosts of the past. "The next step is to learn to read braille. We'll put labels in all the clothes that tell you what color it is. We'll need to find a system that works for you to tell you what clothes go together for your own wardrobe. It will take some trial and error. Of course, I've seen your clothes and most of them are black and red, so I don't think we'll have much trouble," she joked.

Emily did give a small snort at that and JJ knew she was reaching her through the bleak memories.


	6. Chapter 6

Emily picked at her fingernails anxiously, not realizing she had drawn blood on some fingers.

JJ sat across from her, writing in her file.

Emily had refused to see an outside psychiatrist, so JJ had to fall back into her original training and fill that role.

"Why don't you tell me about the day of the accident," she prompted, "Was it a nice day?"

Emily snorted and gave a pointed look in the direction of JJ's voice. "I'm not a victim, I don't need a cognitive interview."

"I know you're not a victim," JJ assured her. "Can you just play along with me a little? Just try it?"

Emily sighed, but nodded, relenting. "It was chilly – I had to put on a jacket – but the sun was out."

"Were there a lot of people entered in the race?"

"I guess." Emily shrugged. "It was only Agents that were running. I knew some of the people; Derek knew more than I did because he's from here."

"What about spectators?" JJ asked. "Had a lot of people showed up to watch the race?"

Emily nodded. "I was surprised. There were reporters there too. One of them asked to take a picture of me and Derek at the starting line."

"Alright, so you're running the race...what do you remember before the bomb went off?"

Emily scrunched her face up in thought. "I stopped to take a phone call. It was my doctor, so I didn't want it to go to voicemail. I moved to the side to talk and Derek passed me. He was laughing at me, telling me I was going to lose – he'd bet me that the person with the slower time had to cook dinner."

"Is that when the explosion happened? While you were talking on the phone?" JJ asked.

Emily paused for several moments, breathing too heavily. "I survived because of that phone call... I was outside the immediate vicinity of the explosion because of it. The shockwave blew me backwards and I hit my head on the pavement. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up at the hospital."

JJ spent a minute or two writing. When she looked up again, she paused to study Emily. "You blame yourself?" she asked, even though it wasn't a question.

She nodded, biting her lip. "I let him go on ahead without me. I should have stopped him, made him wait with me. I woke up that morning with a bad feeling and I should have listened to it."

"Was it your idea to enter the race?" JJ asked.

"No, Derek wanted to..." she started to explain.

JJ cut her off. "And was it your fault that a terrorist used the race to hurt people?"

"Of course not!" Emily said indignantly.

"Did you choose to only be injured while Derek died?"

"No!" Emily shouted, nearly weeping. "I wish I'd died instead of him!"

"Emily, none of this was your fault. Not one bit of it," JJ told her urgently. "You couldn't have prevented any of this."

"I know," she whispered, "I just..."

"You also didn't choose who lived and who died," JJ reminded. "And even if you did, Derek would have lost two people that day. You lived and you get to bring a part of him into the world in a few months. Remember that when you start wishing you could trade places with him."

Emily nodded, but said nothing.

"Emily, I'm worried your survivor's guilt may be a symptom of post-traumatic stress," JJ said gently. "Your symptoms seem to be relatively minor at the moment, but I don't want to see it worsen, especially when you're postpartum and at risk for depression. I don't want to start you on any medications while you're pregnant, unless your symptoms worsen. I think EMDR is going to be the biggest help for you at this stage and I want you to continue seeing a psychiatrist."

Emily opened her mouth as if to argue.

"Even if you just speak to me, you _need_ to talk to someone. You've got a child depending on you and you won't be any use to them if you're too busy being focused on what you might have done differently that day."


	7. Chapter 7

JJ dropped Emily off at home after their therapy session and the first thing Emily noticed upon walking through the door of her house was the overwhelming scent of paint.

Without asking, she somehow knew exactly what Fran was doing.

Emily made her way upstairs slowly and with a lot of stumbling, as she was still getting used to using a cane, and into what had been the spare room, following the chemical smell.

"Emily, I didn't hear you come in," Fran said, surprised when she caught sight of her in the doorway.

"Fran, what are you doing?" Emily asked, ignoring her comment. She felt anger bubbling up inside and wasn't entirely sure why.

"Don't worry, I haven't put on a color yet, just priming the walls," she said in a non-answer. "We can decide on a color together once you know the sex. I just wanted to get a start on the nursery."

"Fran, I don't want to paint the nursery! I don't want to stay here! I can't live here with Derek's memories hanging over my shoulder all the time!" She didn't mean to shout at her mother-in-law, but her voice had risen in volume until she couldn't help it.

"I know it feels that way now, dear, but you can't move now, when you're pregnant. And you won't want to move with a newborn. Give it some time and I think you'll want to stay here, where you started your life together. Derek loved this house..." Emily knew the older woman knew what she was talking about, she'd lived through it herself, but she couldn't make herself care right now.

Derek had _loved_ the house. He'd renovated it from the ground up and transformed it from a shambling fixer-upper to a beautiful elegant family home. He'd seen the potential in it from the beginning when she'd only seen its flaws and he'd worn her down until she agreed to buy it; he'd worked tirelessly to build the house of their dreams where they would raise their family and watch their children and grandchildren grow.

Now, every room, every wall was haunted with his spirit, his energy, his laughter until she could hardly sleep at night without being overwhelmed by thoughts of him. She didn't think she could live with him hanging over her shoulder without being able to have him in her arms.

"Stay out of it!" Emily nearly shrieked, hating how petulant and childish she sounded. "It's none of your business!"

"You're right," Fran placated, "I'm sorry, I should have asked your permission before painting. I was only trying to help."

Emily didn't want to be crying, but she couldn't help that she was nearly bawling in frustration. "I don't want your help! I just want Derek!"

For her part, Fran seemed unfazed by this breakdown and she pulled Emily into a hug which she didn't resist, collapsing against the older woman's chest and sobbing like her heart was breaking.

"I don't want to do this without him," she whispered, heaving empty sobs and choking breaths.

"I know, dear, I know." Fran's hand was gentle on her back. "He wouldn't want you to have to do this alone, but I'm afraid you don't have that option any more. This baby is coming whether you're ready or not."

"I know... I just wish I had more time. I just want to talk to him one more time."

* * *

"Part of me wishes I had miscarried again," Emily said so softly she wasn't sure JJ could hear her, half-hoping she didn't. She didn't want the other woman to think her a bad person, a bad parent.

"That's completely understandable," JJ assured her. "You're trying to juggle a lot of stressful changes right now and a child is a lot to add to your plate, especially without your husband there to help you."

Emily nodded slowly, automatically picking at her nails. "Part of me is glad I won't know if the baby looks like Derek so it won't hurt so much...is that selfish?"

"You're allowed to feel selfish, Emily," JJ reminded her. "You're allowed to feel whatever you feel right now and no one can judge you for it."

"I know," she said without conviction, "But I feel and think all these horrible things and I don't feel like a good mother right now. I'm finally getting what I've hoped and waited so long for, but it feels like a burden. I freaked out on my mother-in-law because she's excited, because she's preparing and I can't face reality."

"It's hard right now because it seems so abstract, you don't have an actual baby in your arms to bond with. Those feelings will go away, if you give it time," JJ promised.

"I don't have time... This baby will be here in five months and I'm terrified of what will happen when it comes."


	8. Chapter 8

Her morning sickness had recently passed, but Emily was doubting whether she'd keep her breakfast down as she sat in her obstetrician's waiting room.

She was excited, really. But she was also mostly anxious.

She wasn't exactly sure _why_ she was nervous, other than that she felt she deserved to have something bad happen, especially given the direction her life had so recently taken.

She was clutching Fran's hand probably too tightly, but she didn't seem to have control over her hands at the moment, the other one clutching her thigh so hard her nails were digging into the muscle through her maternity jeans.

A nurse called her name and she shot to her feet, dragging Fran along with her.

In the exam room, Fran had to help her change into a hospital gown because those were challenging even when you could see the ties and she had long stopped being embarrassed about needing help around her mother-in-law.

By the time the doctor came in, she was shivering from a combination of nerves and the freezing temperature in the room.

"I see you hit twenty weeks today," the doctor said by way of greeting.

Emily frowned. "You're not my regular doctor." She knew from the voice. She'd spent tireless hours picking out the best obstetrician in the city, wary from her teenage back-alley experience, and she wasn't thrilled about the idea of anyone else giving her a pelvic. Especially now that this baby was the last thing she had of Derek.

"She got called away on an emergency delivery; I share the practice with her. Don't worry, I've been informed of your special circumstances."

She wasn't fully reassured and found this doctor's bedside manner somewhat lacking, but that was outweighed by her need for reassurance that her baby was doing okay.

She let the doctor go ahead with the exam.

He expressed some concern that she was measuring quite small for five months. Fran kindly but firmly explained that she was under extreme stress and could hardly be expected to have gained as much weight as the average woman. Emily reminded herself how lucky she was to have this woman in her corner.

The doctor hmmphed, but said nothing more on the matter. He took a few more measurements, then sent in the nurse to perform the ultrasound.

The next several minutes were spent in silence with Emily picking her nails; she was half expecting to be told that her baby had no heartbeat, afraid that she'd somehow cursed it into being true by speaking her sometimes-wish aloud at her last therapy session.

Then, she heard the sound like horse hooves beating the ground and tears welled up in her eyes. Fran silently clasped her hand tighter.

That was the only sound for a few minutes as the nurse followed procedure. "Did you want to know what you're having?" the nurse asked finally.

Emily's heart clenched. Derek had always said he wanted to be surprised when the moment finally came, but she couldn't handle any more surprises at the moment. "Tell me."

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

Fran gasped sharply. "Oh, Emily..." she breathed. Derek had always said he wanted a daughter.

* * *

Emily was just pulling on her sweater, ready to leave the clinic, when there was a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry, I'm almost done..." she said, getting stuck in the sweater in her start.

The nurse cracked open the door. "Sorry to interrupt. I almost forgot something.."

Emily wriggled into her sweater and sat back on the table, thinking she had to have some blood tests done or something.

"Your psychiatrist faxed over a note for your file," the nurse said by way of explanation.

She was confused as to what JJ could've possibly noted.

The nurse handed her a small plastic plate. "Feel it," she said with excitement in her voice.

With the pads of her fingers, Emily felt the object she'd been handed. It took a few moments before realization struck her and her heart jumped up into her throat. "Is this...?"

"It's a 3D rendering of your baby..."

She started sobbing thickly, then choked out a small wet laugh. "That's my baby? _Our_ baby..." She laughed again, running a finger along the rounded planes of the cheeks, the tiny point of the nose – her nose – the puckered lips – all Derek. Ears and little eyes and a chin. Even a tiny fist clenched up near her face.

She wiped the tears off her cheeks and laughed again. She knew what her baby looked like, something she thought she'd never get the chance to truly know. This little person, this perfect combination of two people who'd loved each other, was growing inside her – it hadn't truly hit her until that moment... This was hers.

Her baby.

Her daughter.


End file.
